Of Neruda and Disney
by helaluvE
Summary: Kurt and Santana spend an evening together. Headache and heartache may be in the horizon. Mentions of Blaine and Brittany. [friendship fic]


Kurt makes his slow, weary way towards his part of the loft. Today has been nothing short of torture. Every muscle hurts even the ones he didn't know he had. He thought Booty Camp with the New Directions last year was bad but a day spent in one of Cassandra July's dance class shot that affirmation straight in the head. He drops his duffel bag on the floor and decides laundry can wait a few hours... or a few years. He's already thinking of the nap he'll take after a warm shower when he hears a noise coming from his bed. He takes a deep breath and promises himself not to lose it again. He pushes the curtain dividing his room from the rest of the loft and as expected, he finds Santana lying on his bed. He's about to make a cutting remark and booting her out of his room (for the tenth time this week) but he's cut short by the sight of her reading. Santana Lopez is reading a book. Willingly. What is happening to the world?

"Hi, Porcelain," she greets him without looking up.

"Since when do you read?"

"Since the internet is down and TV is boring," she replies without taking her eyes away from the book.

"It's Friday. I thought you'd be out with Rachel or something," he busies himself by taking off his expensive but glorious Dolce & Gabbana sneakers.

"Rachel is out with her NYADA clique. I'd rather gouge my eyes out with a spork and then eat them than spend another minute with those people," she replies with a sigh and Kurt chuckles. That sounds about right. "Your dad called."

Kurt's head snaps up so fast he almost breaks his neck. "How's he?" he asks around the lump in his throat. There always seems to be something clogging up his airway these days.

Santana finally puts the book down and offers him a gentle smile. Kurt is once again struck by how beautiful she is. He's always known she was gorgeous but in moments like these, when there's nothing surrounding her; no hurt, no wariness and no anger, she's absolutely breath-taking. Even he can appreciate that.

"He's fine. We talked for a bit. Treatment is going well and he… he misses you. Told me to tell you to not worry so much," she says before grabbing the book once again and putting it between them.

"Thank you."

She doesn't reply but he wasn't expecting her to. She's still Santana.

He goes to shower thinking about his dad and how missing him is a constant ache. He wishes more than anything that he could be there for him every day but he knows that's not what his dad wants and he knows despite the awfulness and fear surrounding the situation, his father is pulling through. He's doing okay. Finn and Carole are sending him daily updates, he calls and skypes with his father as much as possible and even though he can't be there but he feels like everything will be fine.

Plus he's got Blaine. He gets emails a couple of times a week with detailed reports about Blaine's latest visit to the Hummel-Hudson household. They're thorough and funny and they're always pictures attached to them. It's bitter-sweet for Kurt but he's happy to know that his father is surrounded by good and loving people.

He actively avoids thinking about Blaine but it would be easier to ask him to chew off his own arm. Blaine's as much a part of him as any of his limbs. The situation between them might be a hundred percent strange and maddening; it's also not something he can let go of. Without Blaine, he simply wouldn't be the person he is today.

He finishes his shower and dresses quickly in the bathroom; he knows better than to go out undressed with Santana still in his room. When he gets back, she's still lying on his bed.

"Do you plan to move anytime soon?" he asks while putting his stuff away.

"I've decided to move in here with you. Your bed is unfairly comfortable and you have some sexy books. I like it here," she replies smugly.

Kurt swivels around. "Sexy books?" he asks breathlessly as he finally looks at the book she's been reading. He was too tired and preoccupied earlier to pay attention but now that he has, his hearts stutters in his chest rather violently. He strides to the bed and snatches it from her hands.

"I knew that under the layers of gel and dapper-grandpa attitude Blaine was actually a frisky kitten," she smirks while she sits up. The force of Kurt's glare should have burned her on the spot but she simply shrugs and rearranges her hair around her shoulders. "Wanky," she adds with a wink.

"You need to stop going through my stuff," he spats; clutching Pablo Neruda's Collections of Poems Blaine had given him for their one year anniversary to his chest.

"It was on your bedside table," she remarks.

Kurt grates his teeth. "Do not touch my things, Santana."

"Jeez. Overreacting much? It's just a book," she says, frowning as if she can't understand why he's so upset. But they both know why he is. The book is filled with annotations made by Blaine. Notes about the poems, about their relationship, about memories and mementos. It's intimate and precious like no ordinary book could be and Kurt feels violated and hurt. Santana watches him for a bit and her face softens. "Whatever. I'm sorry."

He glares but sits on the bed. She scoots to the side and lies back down; she doesn't say anything but Kurt recognizes the invitation. He decides he should be awarded for not tearing her a new one for inviting him to lie on his own freaking bed. This woman, honestly!

"You are insufferable," he mumbles as he settles next to her. He still clutching the book; he has no idea why the idea of setting it down is breaking his heart.

Minutes pass without any of them saying anything. They just lie next to each other, not exchanging anything but the simple comfort of knowing another person is there and that they know what it feels like to be stuck.

"I still watch The Beauty and The Beast every Friday night," Santana admits softly after a while. "It's her favorite Disney movie. When we were little, she used to say that the Beast reminded her of me," her voice is heavy with longing but when Kurt turns his head to look at her, she's smiling.

He laughs. "Brit is wiser than any of us." She nods and turns her head away, trying (in vain) to hide tears. Kurt lets go of the book and takes one of her hands in his.

"Wanna watch it with me?" she asks.

"Sure."

He brings his laptop and the DVD to his bed while she goes to grab snacks. They settle on his bed once more and they cuddle close to each other. They hum the songs together and he pretends not to see when she tears up again. It's a strangely intimate evening and Kurt can't quite wrap his head around the fact that he's spending it with Santana of all people. He likes it, however. She may be a harsh force of nature and obnoxiously rude but she was his friend and he was glad she was here. He liked the way they were taking of each other and he hoped Blaine and Brittany were there for each other as well. It's the last thought Kurt has before he falls asleep with Santana's head on his shoulder.


End file.
